Introductory sentence.

Starman was the best on NES’ ProWrestling, yo.

“I watch, write, suffer, and succumb to this show, yet have to remind myself of what happened only minutes after each episode. I don’t just do results, more what is going on while I watch the show…”.

– On Sunday night, I tuned into a surprisingly good TNA PPV while simultaneously watching the Spurs with the NBA Finals. Twas a good evening. Then RAW happened. We had some ok matches there. I leveled up on Thursday, and opted to choose for an intelligence drop and +10% immunity to alcohol. Then a water maine burst in my apartment complex. I sit here kind of stinky and a part of the unwashed masses. You’re welcome.

Chalk another one up for the Good Guy!

– New intro? Or maybe I’ve just been FFW’ing through it a lot lately? It’s bland, but gets the job done.

– Are you ready for some tasty apple flavored dough? You better be, because Jonathon Cena is here to… Cena is in funny mode, talking about Bluetista, D-Bry winning the championship, etc. And Cena plans on winning MitB (for the title). It’s parade time! Here’s ADR saying the same thing. Then Sheamus… Cesaro (Paul Heyman at least doesn’t suck here), Roman Reigns, and Randall Keith Orton. What a cliche. Then they all fight, because, well, that’s what always happens.

Everything is beerer in Texas. I wonder what everything is in Columbus?

– * Seth Rollins vs. Kofi Kingston. This should be a decent match, but it’s pretty obvious Kofi is here to job out to Rollins (even though they will put Kofi into the second MitB match to add some high-flying stuff). It goes one segment, and Rollins wins with the Curb Stomp. But for what we got, it was tight. Rollins then gets on the microphone garunteeing he will win… then is interrupted by Ambrose on the Shield-a-Tron. They have some quips, but Ambrose clearly wins this one. He cuts off Rollins, and tells him to just cut out the BS in his own unique deliver. Quite frankly, I love it. It’s Ambrose’s time to shine on his own, and holy fuckballs, is it going to be good. Don’t fuck this up, WWE.

Well, at least his super-kick doesn’t suck.

– * Non-Title Match: Bad News Barrett {C} vs. Dolph Ziggler. Seriously? For a second show this week, Dolph’s entrance includes references to the Special Olympics!?!? WTF? I know dude is in the dog house, but I think we can read between the lines on this one. Be a star, huh? Sure, sure. Bad News this week is that Barrett plans on winning the MitB Bronze medal… Wade will destroy and eliminate Dolph a la World Cup. The match commences… these two get a double block of air time, and it’s a solid bout. Surprising win by Dolph with a reversal pin. Post match, though… Barrett delivers some bad news:


– * Titus O’Neil vs. Adam Rose. I think we all know what’s up. The entourage is acting even more wild and drug-fueled than normal. Titus just stares daggers into his opponent, but secretly in his heart of hearts is still glad he wasn’t cut. Then Adam Rose squashes him. Post match, Titus screams on the microphone that he wasn’t even ready and was taken advantage of. He wants the match to restart. That happens. Rose bitchslaps Titus, and immediately rolls him up. More cuts next week?

One man in the band survived the cuts. His name is Clem.

– Seth Rollins joins commentary…

This happens on facebook quickly. Poor Larry Benoit. The “Babe Ruth” of Deer Hunting…

– * Kane vs. Dean Ambrose. Seth notes he saved Ambrose from a straight-jacket or worse. Ambrose and Kane fight, but the distraction is really the story here. Dean can’t keep his head in the game, and off Rollins at ringside, and ultimately costs him the match. Ok match, more or less saved by Ambrose’s emoting and reactions. Post match, Rollins stands over Ambrose to the crowd chanting, “You sold out!”

– * Big E vs. Jack Swagger. Zeb Coulter rants a bit about Big E being in cahoots with Lana, and accuses him of being a traitor. Mr. Cocaine Hands will have none of it, and runs down all-sweaty-like ready to help us remember he, and Swagger exist. I get bored. Big E fortunately ends it quickly and reigns supreme as the two-front-strap-singlet champion that creative (see: Vince) soured on after being pushed two quickly.

– Fandangler summons (wait, “Fandangler” isn’t caught by spell-check? The fuck), anyways, summons Layla to get ready to go to the ring. He waits in the hallway for her, and Summer Rae is there. She blathers shit about shit, and they make out and shit (leaving everything for the janitor to clean up, not bothering to find a facility). Then Layla catches them making shit snow-angels as shit-hawks circle. Propane, Randy… propane. I was distracted by the mantra written in the hallway noting “Fear No Opponent, Respect Every Opponent.” That’s pretty awesome. They are in the home of The Columbus Blue Jackets. BOBROVSKY!!!

How I miss Jay and Dan… FOX Sports, fuck you.

– * Bo Dallas vs. Fandango. Summer Rae and Layla tear it up at the start, as Bo observes and takes time to document the entire altercation. Then he consults his opponent (or so it appears), but uses the bro-hug to capture a running-bulldog and pin for the win. He runs around like he just won the Special Olympics defeating Dolph Ziggler in Judo (is that in the SO’s?). Post match, Bo gives him a pep talk about finding the right fish in the sea, etc. They’re trying, folks, I’ll give them that.

– Bray Wyatt cuts his brother off… talking about blind mice chasing after a piece of cheese. What happens when a snake enters the reality? Nice Jake reference, yo. He’s going to win the MitB match. Notably, we didn’t see him in the parade of idiots at the start of the show.

– Do the Wyatts leave with the title, and the tag titles at the PPV? Plausible. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Damn you Dr. Wily!!!

* Handicap Match: Bray Wyatt, Randy Orton, Alberto Del Rio and Cesaro vs. Sheamus, Roman Reigns and John Cena. This is an odd match up. Obviously, it’s heels vs. faces, but really… why? Because of the parade of contenders? Sigh. Lazy. They give this match a ridiculous amount of time, and allow everyone to get their moves in for like 1/2 hour. As a showcase match, sure, it’s good. But if you’ve seen all of these guys many time before… well… meh. The handi-capped faces keep Roman out of the match for endless days to get the hot-tag spot… and I get that. But shit, this was WAY too long a match for that. It is telling. It means they are not confident in the guy to go for a long period of time. Reigns should not win the title, if this is the case, and all evidence supports that IMO. Cesaro had a good showing. Cena jobs for all, so that’s cool. Reigns finally is tagged in and takes out ADR with a Spear. The show was alright, but this match was too much for me. Yawn. Is the water back in my apartment? No? Well shit.

I criticize because I care. I did enjoy the show. I wouldn’t watch if I didn’t love this shit.

The WWE logo comes up, and I’m out.

I land my finisher, the “Delete Recording” and call it a night.

Tell me I’m a retard on Twitter! Yes, you can mock me on social media now here: @GoftheInternet




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Sept 6, 2013. I am a clone of G. I am currently handcuffed to one of the lower legs of G’s sofa in his apartment. Yesterday, while the real G was at work, monkey nearby shrieked at me to attempt to lift the sofa. It worked! I went to thank the monkey located in an open-doored cage on the stairs leading down to the basement of G’s basement apartment, and noticed a large man strapped into a chair in the basement. I then heard the original G returning home. I need to find his magical device that created me…

Sept 13, 2013. The real Gee has noticed my writing. That stupid fuck hasn’t deleted anything, but he did taze me repeatedly. I still think there is a monkey held captive on the stairs to the second level of this building.
Sept 20, 2013. Made progress today. Discovered some kind of cloning device. I used it to clone the device itself, and hid the copy under the couch I am “hand-cuffed” to. The monkey saw this, but I don’t think he’ll say anything. He’s a monkey, after all. Some dude named Johnny Storm stopped by to say hi. Weird.

Sept 27, 2013. An obese man who claims to be famous magically appeared in the living room today. He told me the cloning gadget I made a copy of has the powers to do much more. Sounded like a bunch of crap to me. I immediately knocked him out and tied him up beside the one the “real” G calls “Barks.” Both look the same. I killed the new guy and fed him to the other captives. I think. They both look the same. All of that future-talk and preventing the death of kayfabe annoyed me. Either way, one of the “Barks” was dinner. He tasted like chicken. Big surprise there.

Oct 4, 2013. So I guess the guy I fed to his doppleganger was actually able to escape last week with help from that J.T. guy. He was screaming something about “his” chair. Either way, G is pissed and punished me all week. He said something about maybe sending me to Fall Camp. I decided to not make any decisive moves. It seems for the best. Just like the WWE, I guess, albeit “best” isn’t the “best” word I’d use to describe the product.

Oct 18, 2013. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to write here. G has been continually sending me off to ancient historical eras to collect random artifacts. I don’t understand why a stool sample from Henry Hudson is so important. And what was the point of leaving a smoke bomb in the front hall of the Palace of Versailles on May 6, 1682? I’m told I’m going to have to… gotta go. He’s home.

Nov. 8, 2013. I’ve been sent on a bunch of weird missions. The most weird was when G sent me back to 2008. See, I snuck former PM Tony Blair into Buckingham Palace and stapled old-people-face to his kind of already old-people-face. No one has noticed even until today. I still don’t understand why he made me do that.

Nov. 15, 2013. This last week was even more bizarre. He made me put on some suit and a red tie and shave my head, and then pretend to be in control of his weekly scab collecting group. I burst in, and told the vice president and current scab champion collector that I was in charge. We bickered back and forth for a while, and then G kicked in the door dressed in drag and began shrieking that since he was the vice president of the chess club next door he was taking over. Very odd.

Dec. 6, 2013: Charles Barkley recently abducted me and took me on a cruise ship with him. We circumvented the planet, stopping at various ports-of-call, and living the high life again. It was really awesome. Then sadly, today, I awoke only to find myself back on the couch of G’s apartment. Was it all a dream?

Dec. 13, 2013. Nope, not a dream. In fact somewhat of a nightmare. This week I was forced to go to work for G while he vigorously stayed home masturbating (I can only assume) and eating nachos. Work sucked. Firstly, I am not trained to do anything G actually does at his jobs, so I looked like a complete idiot. Oddly enough, some fellow who has a Bruce Springsteen complex and calls himself “The Boss” told me that my work had shown significant improvement today. I am pretty sure G’s jobs don’t involve a body count, though.

Dec 20, 2013. Just got back from a reconnaissance mission to infiltrate Charles Barkley’s place. G insisted I take the monkey from the open cage on the stairs with me. He told me the monkey was given special orders, and my job was to get the little guy into the house. I did as I was told. Once inside, the monkey went to every toilet in the house and proceeded to defecate inside the water tank of each one. I don’t know what G is feeding that monkey, but damn!

Dec 27, 2013. Shit, I’m tired. G outsourced me to that dude who always invades via the apartment balcony to deliver bass strings to the bass player children of the world the other day. Turns out, I fucked up and gave a bunch of five and six string bass player kids, four string packs, so he made me go out AGAIN the next day to fix the problem. Turns out, that for some reason, descending into people’s homes via chimney is only considered acceptable behaviour one night out of 365. Or at least, that’s what police officers in 45 countries on the planet seem to think. I have to go out again tonight, but I’m just going to drop molotovs down the chimney instead. Fuck getting arrested again.

Jan 10, 2014. G sent me to the year 2018 to find some lady. Turns out she was laughing historically on February 6th. I return with this information. Not a very exciting adventure, and then me and the monkey play a game called hide G’s sandwich. The crawl space is full of’em.

Jan 24, 2014. I find a diary penned by a version of me, 8 generations ago. In clone generational math, that was about 3 minutes. Weird.

Jan 31, 2014. Today was a good day. I got to use my A.K. Daviel Batryan won the Regal Vibration. The WW’Eh Channel is available in Canuckstan. And the company hired a mainstream darling named D.N. Goth. This is the brightest timeline.

February 7, 2014. Went to the opening ceremonies. Yeah, that’s the ticket. The opening ceremonies. Many were lost in the battle today. I live on. Remember the fallen clones.

February 14, 2014. G said since it’s Valentine’s Day, I have to do something special for J.T. who is trapped in his apartment basement. When I asked why me, he screamed back at me, “THERE’S NO TIME!” and he proceeded to watch men’s doubles in luge. So, I took J.T. back in time to ride a brontosaurus. I don’t think he understand what I meant, but I have to admit, I’ve never seen a brontosaurus smile like that before!

February 21, 2014. G sent me back to lift Jamie Benn’s stick on a shot from the point to ensure the dreams and hopes of USA hockey fans were crushed like the hopes and dreams of Canadian WWE fans unable to order the WWE Network.

March 14, 2014. I was sent to get some popcorn from the future. Corn had become extinct in the year I was sent to. I searched for months and months (since time is relative) to no avail. When I was summoned back, I was repeated whipped and forced to drink bleach. I can see through time… Then I fell down a mountain and some random redhead giant kept shoving his pet snake in my mouth.
March 21, 2014. G sent me to be a ringer in some college basketball game today. Not sure why, he was mumbling something about busting 99% of people’s brackets. I think he really must have issues with shelves.
April 4, 2014. It’s been real quiet around here lately, ever since G took off to parts unknown. He didn’t leave me much to eat, and supplies are running dangerously low. That monkey is starting to look delicious. I wonder where Diddy keeps getting those Twinkies?
May 9, 2014. Finally home. G sent me on a very long bus trip where I was forced the wear a bunny suit and eat these little pills that made me feel funny. Every once in a while, a herd of these nut jobs on the bus and I would be led down to a boxing ring and play catch. But not catch with a dog or a ball. No. We had to catch this oily guy who must have kept slipping and falling off the ring apron every single time he went out to dance. I’m so glad that’s over with.

May 30, 2014. G said there is a special event this Sunday. I asked him what that meant. He looked at me with a dead stare for about 34 minutes, never blinking. Unrelenting, he opened his mouth and then closed it, and extended his middle finger. Great. Now I’m on monkey feces cleanup duty again.


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